


Evil Within, Evil Without

by ongoingaccident



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M, HoK: Adelaide Darrell, Martin Mantles Sanguine, alternate ending to the oblivion main quest, hi i've never posted on here before so hopefully i won't eff everything up, i don't know how to write titles or summaries WHOOPS, i love martin okay, i'm not writing out the whole shivering isles quest cause y'all know what happens, might write more from martin's pov later if people are interested we'll see, no editing we die like men, the title is super dramatic for what this actually is sorry, these tags are a mess whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ongoingaccident/pseuds/ongoingaccident
Summary: Sometimes you have to become what you despise in order to save the world. Two gods are better than one, right?





	1. Dreams of Gods and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this (https://denythem.tumblr.com/post/186170625361/helloheres-martin-as-sanguine-for-no) absolutely gorgeous artwork and someone's tags that i have been regretfully unable to find saying something along the lines of "what if Martin had to mantle Sanguine before the end of the mq?". hope you enjoy!!!

It was the night before they were to head to the Imperial City and see Martin crowned when she had the dream. It was... odd, to say the least, for someone who rarely dreamed to have one that was so very vivid, but even more odd was the content.

When she looked down, Adelaide realized she was not on Nirn anymore - instead, she was in some glowing plane of reality that seemed to have no beginning and no end. The strangest part, however, was the flaming dragon before her, and it got stranger still when the dragon began to speak.

“Adelaide Darrell, the one they call the Hero of Kvatch, know me for who I am.” The fiery creature spoke with a voice that she thought could move mountains or dig canyons. She wasn’t sure if the visceral feeling it left in her gut was terror or awe. “I am Akatosh, and I require your obedience.” That would explain the booming voice and the dragon and the glowing realm. Best to hear him out, then - not that she seemed to have much of a choice. “You are too late. As we speak, the armies of Mehrunes Dagon march on the Imperial City. He will arrive in Tamriel before you can light the Dragonfires, and you cannot fight him as you are.”

This whole thing had gone very quickly from a really interesting dream to a concerningly realistic nightmare. Adelaide tried not to let the fact that she was speaking to one of her gods intimidate her too much. “What should I do?”

The dragon let out a puff of air that could have been exasperation or amusement. She wasn’t sure which option concerned her more. “There is a portal in the middle of the Niben Bay. You must enter it and become something more than yourself. Only a god can defeat another god.”

It seemed that the stereotype of divine beings being infuriatingly cryptic was correct after all. “What about Tamriel? What will become of it while I’m gone?”

Akatosh eyed her, and again Adelaide failed to discern whether it was with approval or distaste. “Time in Oblivion passes differently than it does in Mundus. No Nirn time will pass while you are gone. But you must be swift. Obey me, or Tamriel will fall.” Before she could say anything else - before she could think anything else - he was gone.

For an instant, everything went black and she had the oddest sensation of free-falling through space before she woke with a jolt. She had taken to sleeping on the floor of Martin’s quarters when she was at the temple, but they were as dark as they had been when she went to sleep.

Adelaide breathed heavily for a moment as she tried to think what to do - that had been too clear a dream to ignore outright - when Martin also awoke with a muffled noise.

She was on her feet and at his side in an instant, but the look he gave her as he sat up did little to calm her nerves. “You’ll never believe the dream I had,” he said lightly, but his voice was stiff and she knew he was more troubled than his words implied.

Adelaide met his eyes, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, knew with frightening certainty what his dream had been like. “He came to you too, then,” she whispered. “It was no dream.”

Martin took one of her hands in his and gripped it tightly, and for a moment they stood there in silence before he spoke. “He did. We should go.” But he didn’t move to stand or leave.

Adelaide squeezed back before gently (oh so gently, she could never risk hurting him) pulling hers away and picking her cuirass up off of the floor. “It will be all right. I do not know what this journey shall bring, but we will have one another. But we cannot wait. The situation is dire.”

Martin sighed softly as he stood. “I don’t think we will be together, but you’re correct. We cannot tarry.”

He padded over to his wardrobe as she froze in between straps of her gauntlets. “What do you mean? You aren’t coming to the Niben Bay?”

Martin removed his plain grey priest robe as he shook his head. “I am heading to the Imperial Reserve, north of Skingrad.” His voice was tight, but she wasn’t sure why. Certainly the situation was stressful and sudden and far from ideal, but she got the feeling that there was a memory bothering him.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly, pulling up one of her sabatons. But Martin shook his head again as he began to dress and she turned her eyes away.

“I am fine, but it is no matter. You are correct. We cannot delay. We must obey Akatosh.” He was lying and she could tell, but Adelaide didn’t press the issue. As with everything else, Martin would tell her when he felt ready.

They finished their preparations in silence before heading toward the stables. Jauffre was sitting alone in the great hall, and started when he saw them. “Where are you going? We aren’t leaving until the morning.”

Adelaide hesitated, unsure of what to say, but Martin answered for them. “We have been given a task we must complete. We will meet you in the Imperial City tomorrow.” She could tell that Jauffre was distinctly displeased with the idea, but Martin’s tone brokered no argument. The grandmaster tried anyway.

“It isn’t safe, sire. Please at least take an escort if you must leave.”

But Martin shook his head. “We must leave immediately, and we must go alone. Please, my friend, we can waste time no longer.”

Adelaide could pinpoint the exact moment at which Jauffre relented. His eyes dropped and his shoulders sagged as he heaved a deep sigh. “Very well. Do what you must. We will be waiting for you. Gods-speed, sire.”

Martin took the older man’s hands in his and smiled gently. “Thank you, Jauffre.”

Adelaide tried not to think too hard about what would happen if they didn’t succeed - that was irrelevant, now. They would win, or they would die, and so would everyone else.

She and Martin saddled and mounted their horses quietly. Any attempts at small-talk died quickly - they had become very close over the last few weeks, but the situation was too serious for them to distract themselves with idle conversation. Their ride, too, was quiet and tense as they listened for bandits or cultists or worse. But as tense as it was, the end was more difficult still.

Adelaide clasped Martin’s arm gently as he turned his horse toward the hills. “Be safe.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “I do not know what Akatosh asked of you or why it torments you so, but you can overcome this.” She swallowed heavily and didn’t meet his eyes. “I will see you soon.”

But before she could turn away, Martin pulled her into an awkwardly positioned almost-embrace. “Thank you, Adelaide. For everything. Stay safe, and we will meet again soon.” Despite her discomfort, she held him until he pulled away.

“Until then, Martin.” And despite every instinct she had screaming at her to ride with him, to help him, to protect her emperor from the dangers that were assuredly ahead, she turned her horse down the road and continued to ride.

Thankfully, it was only another two hours’ ride to the bay, and the time passed uneventfully. (Akatosh’s protection? Perhaps.)

As Adelaide approached the gates to Bravil, she could make out a distant, shining object in the center of the bay. Whatever Akatosh had been telling her of, no doubt. With a slight sigh, she dismounted and loosely looped Antinea’s reins around a tree next to the stables. “I’ll return soon,” she told the horse. “If there’s danger, run.”

With that, she waded into the bay, intensely grateful that she was a strong swimmer. The glowing object in the center of the bay was far, but not unreachable, and became clearer the closer she got. As she approached, Adelaide realized it was actually an island with a portal in the center.

Her blood chilled when she heard the voice commanding her to enter - Akatosh had sent her to a Daedra. (Martin too, most likely - an even more concerning thought.) But she was nothing if not loyal, and after a moment to steel herself, she stepped into the door.

Later, Adelaide would swear she had spent weeks inside the glowing door. But to any outside observers, she had only just entered the portal when Sheogorath emerged, tilted her head slightly, and laughed.

A moment later, she shook her head as if to clear it and stood up straight, looking completely changed from a few seconds before. A staff topped with a rolling eyeball appeared in her hand for a moment before it disappeared again as she turned her gaze toward the Imperial City.

A storm was rolling in.


	2. Reunions and Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly have no excuse for how long this took, i've had this written for a while. i'm very sorry OTL but it's here now, so thank you for sticking with me and i hope you enjoy!

When she was a young child, her mother had told her to be wary of storms, for they belonged to Sheogorath. Adelaide had been skeptical of that claim for a long time, but now that she was Sheogorath, she saw the truth in it. The growing cloud formation in the distance promised power that she couldn’t access currently, and she could only hope that it reached the Imperial City before Mehrunes Dagon appeared. 

Pushing that thought aside, she stepped off of the small stone island that held her portal and walked back across the water to where Antinea was still tied to the tree. Her mare started when she approached, but after a few moments of tenseness calmed enough to let Adelaide untie her and mount. (She tried not to dwell on how skittish her horse seemed or the thought that this was a precursor to how everyone else would see her now. The deal was made, and now she could only try to handle the consequences.)

She pushed Antinea toward the city, riding hard partly to clear her mind but mostly because sacrificing her humanity would mean nothing if she was too late to stop the Mythic Dawn. It was still too early for most people to be on the roads, and for that she was thankful. This whole endeavor would be difficult enough without having to worry about the reaction she would receive from passersby. And yet, half an hour into her journey to the Imperial City, she heard hoofbeats on the stone path ahead of her, and they were growing louder.

Adelaide let the Staff of Sheogorath appear in her hand once more, but didn’t slow her horse. It sounded like there was only one horse approaching, so hopefully she could just freeze the rider and continue her journey if they tried to accost her. But she let her staff disappear as soon as the other rider came into view and a smile blossomed across her face. 

“Martin!” She hadn’t dare hoped to see him so soon after she had left the Isles, but it had still been too long. And then he had dismounted and she was leaping off of Antinea’s back and into his arms because it had been a miserable few weeks in Oblivion without him and worrying about whether or not he was all right. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” 

“And you as well.” He clutched her more tightly to him for a moment before he brought her out to arm’s length and looked at her. Adelaide felt her cheeks warm as she tried to avert her eyes, even though she knew there was no point. The white hair and regalia gave her away either way, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t already seen her golden, slit-pupiled eyes. Martin gently brushed a thumb across her cheek, and she dared to glance at him.

The first thing she noticed now that she actually got a decent look at her friend was the horns. Then that his grey priestly robes had been replaced by red ones that were loose and cut much less… conservatively, though he still wore the Amulet of Kings. Finally, she met his eyes, and saw that his irises were now red and his sclera, like hers, were black. Sheogorath grinned almost impishly and reached a tentative hand up to his horns, but he gently gripped her wrist before she could. 

“Please don’t. They’re… sensitive,” Martin said, now averting his eyes as a blush crept up his neck. Adelaide reddened as well as she understood his implication and what she had tried to do (she ought to know better than to give in to Sheogorath’s impulses), and then looked him over again and realized with horror who her friend had become. 

“Akatosh asked this much of you?” She asked hoarsely. “To go back into the service of Sanguine? To… to become Sanguine?” Martin’s grip left her wrist and he interlaced their fingers instead, squeezing, and she knew that whatever he had done to earn his mantle, it had not been easy. 

“It had to be done,” he said simply, and her heart clenched. He grinned lightly at her, but she only felt worse seeing the forced expression on his face. “It could have been worse.” 

He was right, of course. He hadn’t been asked to become Molag Bal or Boethiah or Namira, to deal in domination or betrayal or cannibalism, but she knew how much it must have hurt him to return to Sanguine. To become someone he despised. “Either way, it is already done. All that is left is to reap the consequences - preferably by rescuing Tamriel.” 

Martin squeezed her hand again, and she squeezed back as she nodded. How similar his words were to the sentiment she’d had only minutes earlier, and how true. They had done as Akatosh had asked, but it wasn’t over yet. 

Together, they mounted their steeds again and rode hard toward the Imperial City. The closer they got, the darker the skies became, and the more certain Adelaide was that Kynareth was doing them a favor and sending a storm their way. 

Conversation flowed much more easily now than it had a few hours before (weeks before? Months before?), but the nearer they got to the city gates, the more serious it became. “Can we win, do you think?” Adelaide finally dared to ask as the bridge to the Talos Plaza District came into view. 

Martin laughed lowly, almost darkly. “Do we have a choice?” 

The rest of their short journey was finished in silence. The sun was beginning to peek over the hills in the east as they approached the city, and the stablemaster appeared to be awake for the day. “Hail,” Adelaide said as they approached, hoping that her eyes were doing what she wanted and appearing less… other. “My friend and I have business in the city. Could we trouble you to watch our steeds for a few hours in exchange for some gold?” 

If her eyes were still Daedric-looking, the woman didn’t seem to mind. “Of course!” Adelaide dismounted gracefully and pretended to rummage through Antinea’s saddlebags for a few moments before emerging with several Septims and handing them to the woman. (The money had actually come from the Isles. There were several things she could call on at will, mostly her own artifacts, but the royal coffers seemed to also be one of them - much to her good fortune.)

“Be good,” she told her mare, and the still somewhat skittish horse nudged her shoulder gently with her muzzle before turning to graze. Next to her, Martin’s stallion did the same as their owners turned toward the city. 

“It seems so… peaceful. None of the flaming skies and chaos that Akatosh promised us.” Adelaide hummed her agreement, for the city was indeed quiet, but there was something darker looming beneath its idyllic exterior. She couldn’t explain what it was or how she knew, but all was far from well in the Imperial City. 

“When do you think the Blades will arrive? We did promise Jauffre we would meet him, though I can hardly believe he will be pleased to see us as we are.” 

Martin laughed, but there was a hint of bitterness in it. “I told him to leave in the morning, so I expect he rallied the Blades and left as soon as we were gone. I would be shocked if he hasn’t already gone to meet the High Chancellor.” 

Adelaide’s responding laugh was genuine and unburdened, something she’d only seemed to manage as a side effect of becoming the god of madness. “We ought to go, then. Maybe we’ll get a chance to explain this to him before we have to fight a god.” She paused for a moment. “Well, fight a god again, I suppose.”

Martin looked at her with an expression that she could only describe as amused exasperation as they started to cross the bridge. “I won’t ask until later, but I would like to hear that story sometime.” She knew that deep down, Martin was struggling with whatever had happened in the Myriad Realms of Revelry, but he seemed much more… relaxed than he had since she had known him, and she was glad to see it. He deserved some time to be unburdened from the struggles of the entire Empire.

The closer they came to the city, the more nervous she became. How were they going to tell Jauffre what they had done? How would they break the news to Chancellor Ocato that the Emperor was now a Daedric Prince? And that was assuming they survived the battle with Dagon that Akatosh had promised them was coming. Adelaide glanced over at Martin to try and gauge if he was as nervous as she was, and started when she realized that he looked the same as when they had left Cloud Ruler Temple. 

He smiled more softly at her than he had since they had both become gods, looking once more like the man she had befriended. “Surprised?” 

Adelaide nodded as her face twisted with concentration and for a moment, her purple and gold gown turned into her familiar Blades armor before the illusion was gone. “I think my shapeshifting could use some work yet.”

Martin’s smile broadened, and a moment later she looked as he did - as if they had never changed. “It’s more my realm than yours, I suppose, which is likely why it comes more easily to me. But you will improve with time, I’m certain.” 

They stepped through the gates to the Imperial City, and once more she felt the weight of an impossible task. “If we make it that long,” Adelaide said softly, and the light mood disappeared. Martin walked faster toward Green Emperor Way, and she kept pace immediately behind him. 

The entrance to the White-Gold Tower was busy with Blades, and Martin laughed with what seemed to be relief when he saw them. But before her comrades could catch sight of them, he stopped dead. “Sire?” Adelaide asked, but he was giving her a more intent look than she’d ever seen him wear, and she’d spent countless hours by his side as he poured over the Mysterium Xarxes. 

“I have to believe we will win this. But, for luck,” he began, but never finished his sentence. Instead, Martin pulled her closer and kissed her deeply, and Adelaide knew that later she would be embarrassed by the squeaking noise she made before kissing him back. 

It was over too soon and not soon enough, and they were both breathing a little heavier when they pulled away. “I apologize if that was forward,” Martin said lowly, “but I would never forgive myself if we both die and I’d never done it.” He looked conflicted, and she thought she understood. Sometimes the lines between her and Sheogorath blurred, and it was impossible to tell whose the impulse had been - and Martin probably had it worse than she, given his history with Sanguine. 

“No,” Adelaide assured him in the only way she could at the moment. “I… I would like to continue this,” she spat out with a boldness she would never have had before Sheogorath. “If we survive.” 

There was a relief written on Martin’s face that she had no time to analyze before he pulled her into an embrace, fierce but brief. “Let’s plan on that,” he said, and then the previous moments were pushed aside as they continued forward to the tower like nothing had happened. 

Baurus was one of the Blades standing guard, and was the first to notice them as they approached. “Your Imperial Majesty! It’s good to see you. The High Chancellor is waiting for you, come right in.” 

Adelaide had only ever seen the White-Gold Tower from the outside, and she marveled at the place as she followed Martin in. She knew it was Ayleid, but the construction was unlike any other Ayleid ruin she had ever seen. The hallway was lovely, but the first steps she took into the council chamber nearly took her breath away. 

The round chamber was massive, with cavernous ceilings and a large, circular table surrounded by dozens of marble chairs. The council was not in attendance, of course, given that it was still very early, but Jauffre, flanked by several other Blades, was in tense, quiet conversation with Ocato. 

He stopped and stared at them as they walked in, and it was impossible to tell if the expression on his face was relief or rage. Sheogorath’s instincts said some of each. “Good, you’re here, sire.” He turned to Adelaide then, and there could be no doubt to his expression now. “I cannot believe you would encourage this foolishness, running off. I hope whatever you did was worth it, and I will speak to you about it when we return to the Temple.”

Adelaide reddened and felt properly shamed, even though she knew she had no reason to - their quest had been necessary, not to mention ordained by Akatosh. Sheogorath wanted to strangle the man with his own intestines, and then maybe wear them as a necklace. “Of course, Grandmaster,” she said instead of acting on those urges. 

Martin took Jauffre’s admonishment… less well. Wordlessly, he dropped the glamour he’d been keeping over them, revealing their new not-quite-human features. The rest of the room went completely silent. Adelaide listened to the instinct that told her to cast her eyes down and not the one that told her to do a jig. “You have no idea what happened or why we left. Adelaide has sacrificed more than you could imagine, and certainly deserves nothing less than gratitude.”

Jauffre stiffened before he sighed and deflated. “My apologies, Sire. Adelaide. My words were only out of concern. But I think you’d best explain what’s going on.” 

Adelaide glanced at Martin, unsure where to even begin, and he gave a succinct summary of the last few hours (it was still hard to believe that a journey she felt in weeks was so brief to everyone else). “Last night, we both received a vision from Akatosh. He told us that we would be too late to stop Mehrunes Dagon, but that we could defeat him if we were also gods, and sent us each to a different Daedric Prince to mantle them. I have become Sanguine, Adelaide Sheogorath, and we will defend Tamriel from the God of Destruction.” 

There was another period of silence as everyone else in the room tried to digest Martin’s statement, but it didn’t last long. “Your Imperial Majesty! High Chancellor!” Baurus burst through the door with a shout. “There are Oblivion Gates opening throughout the city! Daedra are everywhere!” 

Ocato and Jauffre shared a look and seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Daedric Prince or not, you are still Martin Septim, and the Dragonfires must be relit,” the High Chancellor said diplomatically. 

“To battle, then,” Martin said. 

“To battle,” they all echoed. 

A current of fear rippled through the room as Adelaide and Martin left. Adelaide tried to take stock of the situation as they burst outside, but there was almost too much smoke to do so - a sign that things were very, very bad. On the bright side, it had begun to rain, so she had a chance to flex her newfound power. “Well,” she said after a moment where neither Sanguine nor Sheogorath seemed to have a course of action, “the jaws of Oblivion seem to have been rent apart. Might as well make use of the situation.” With a thought, two Daedra were by her side, one purple and the other golden. 

“My lord,” they said in unison before glaring daggers at one another. 

“Aurmazi Imal, Autkendo Asani. Take the fight to Dagon’s Daedra. Everything else is off-limits - no mortals, none of Sanguine’s own, absolutely not one another. Now go, fight this like it were a plague of Order.” She didn’t wait for them to accept her command before opening two gates of her own. (Much prettier than Dagon’s, though, the Madgod thought.) 

Swarms of Aureals poured from the purple gate, while Mazken teemed from the golden one (she liked to keep them on their toes). They would obey, she knew, even if they disliked her orders - it was against their nature to work with one another and not against, but they’d managed before for her sake and would again. 

Next to her, she saw Martin finish giving orders to some Daedra of his own before they, too, came rushing in legion out of a portal. Sanguine’s Daedra were a thousand shades of red and pink and violet - and in varying stages of undress. Finally, their armies unleashed, Sheogorath looked to Sanguine. “Where to, sire?”

For a moment, Martin appeared flustered, like there were several different responses he wanted to give, but he smiled gently and tilted his head to the south. “You know you’ve never needed to call me by a title, Adelaide.” When she only smiled with one eyebrow raised in response - teasing? -, he continued. “Anyway, we ought to continue to the Temple District and attempt to light the Dragonfires. At some point, they must be lit to protect Tamriel - not to mention that if Dagon intends to make an appearance, it will likely be there, to ensure he catches us before we enter the Temple.”

“If he intends,” Adelaide echoed as she followed Martin through the chaos toward the Temple District. “That would be rather anticlimactic, wouldn’t it? Becoming Daedra for nothing.” She had only just finished her sentence as they pushed through throngs of fighting Daedra to open the door to the Temple District when they heard a bang like a clap of thunder, loud enough to be heard over the chaos.  
She had spoken too soon, it seemed. Mehrunes Dagon had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and i hope you liked it! :D no promises on time for the next chapter because i think i want to completely scrap the fight scene i have and rewrite it and then who knows where we're going from there! in the meantime, feel free to come chat with me either here or on my tumblr @ongoingaccident :)


	3. To Fight a God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting a god is every bit as difficult as one might think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm finally back! thank you to everyone who left kind words or kudos or who's read this, i wouldn't have had the drive to finish this without your support! hope you enjoy the chapter and thank you for reading!
> 
> also, to everyone who read the original third chapter on tumbles: i rewrote the whole thing from scratch, so it won't look anything like the one you've already read. fight scenes are still hard but i am much happier with this one!!!

Mehrunes Dagon was, for lack of a better word, monstrous. He towered over the city, massive and red and four-armed and right in front of the temple they needed to get to. Adelaide felt her breath catch in her chest even as Sheogorath grinned at the thought of the fight ahead. 

Some part of her had always known Akatosh had spoken the truth, that they would need to fight and defeat Mehrunes Dagon in order to see their task done, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality. They were fighting a god. It seemed an impossible task, even changed as they had become. He would destroy them, as befitted the Prince of Destruction. 

But before her thoughts could overwhelm her, Martin pressed a gentle hand to her elbow. When she turned to him, his smile was intensely comforting, and for a moment, it didn’t matter that they had fundamentally changed who they were in order to have a fight that they might still lose. A fight against a very real, very large, very angry god. “It will be all right,” he said, and for that moment she believed him. And even when she finally turned her gaze back to Mehrunes Dagon, everything seemed a little bit less dire than before. 

Yes, Dagon was still a monster, stories upon stories tall, with four bulky arms and an axe for each of them, cutting down friend and foe alike as he reveled in the chaos, but maybe their own godly powers would be enough. She could hope. When Mehrunes Dagon roared again, Adelaide felt less of an urge to give up and despair, and when the thunder cracked and rain finally poured down, she nearly felt confident. She might not have the best handle on her newfound powers, but she’d have the benefit of them being at their height. 

Of course, they still had to survive the fight. Which, she thought, staring at Dagon’s massive axes, might be easier said than done. He had competence with his powers that they couldn’t hope to match, not to mention centuries - no, millennia - of experience. 

Not that it mattered at this point. The battle would happen, and they would succeed or perish. Adelaide felt her resolve strengthen with that ultimatum as she helped Martin push open the massive doors to the Temple District. (The process was made easier than normal by the large chunks of the door that had burnt away or otherwise were no longer attached.) 

The moment that they stood before Dagon, unobstructed by buildings or walls, he turned his gaze to them and shrieked, and Adelaide felt her blood curl even as Sheogorath had to stifle a cackle. “Sheogorath! Sanguine! You would bar my path? Impede my victory? You would _dare_?” 

His outrage pushed her amusement over the edge, and Sheogorath couldn’t stifle the laughter that bubbled out of her. Next to her, Sanguine smirked ever so slightly, but their amusement was quickly dampened when Dagon roared again and charged. Adelaide tried not to descend into the despair that roiled within her - one blow from those axes would be enough to incapacitate either one of them, if not worse. Sheogorath couldn’t bear the thought of losing herself again so soon. 

Martin seemed uninhibited by the fear that presently consumed her, and dragged her backward with him as he dodged a heavy swipe of the first of four wicked blades. “Focus,” he implored her, and there was no time to analyze the desperate inflection in his voice as the second axe fell. 

Adelaide might not have known what to do, but Sheogorath, thankfully, did. A spear she had never seen before appeared in her hands, and it was pure instinct that led her to hold it in front of them like a shield. Mehrunes Dagon’s axe bounced harshly off of the Spear of Bitter Mercy and collided with the third one he was aiming at them. He howled. Her arms rattled with the force of the impact, but whatever protective magic was in the spear held. 

The fourth axe came from nowhere, and this time the reflective enchantments on the spear weren’t enough. It shattered into splinters, and the force of the blast was enough to send her tumbling backwards (and Akatosh, being thrown around without her armor to absorb the impact hurt). Her regalia tore and her skin scraped, even as her pseudo-divinity kicked in and stitched up her clothing and closed her cuts. Her reflexes also seemed to have improved, and it was surprisingly easy to stop herself and get back on her feet as she tried to make sure that Martin hadn’t been hit by the blow that had knocked her back.

It seemed that he hadn’t been, but he had stepped forward when she had fallen, and a staff that sent an uncomfortable jolt of recognition through her was now in his hands - the Sanguine Rose. Again, Adelaide cursed the fact that it had come to this, that he had been forced to accept a mantle that he despised with his entire being, that there hadn’t been something she could do to save him this pain. She was jolted back to reality by Sheogorath’s instincts pulling her symbol of office from wherever it remained when not in her hand as petals fell one after another from the Sanguine Rose and the dremora it conjured swarmed toward Dagon. They distracted him for a moment, but then the last petal fell from the Rose and she knew their moment of relative safety wouldn’t last much longer. 

She glanced at the staff in her hand, and the eye nestled in it looked back at her, eerie and unblinking. Akatosh had promised them a chance at victory, but seizing it was up to them. As Mehrunes Dagon kicked the last of the Dremora away and turned his hateful glare back toward them, Adelaide pointed the Staff at him. “Halt,” it yelled, and one of his arms froze in place. 

There was no time for her to dodge any of the other three, and the first one to hit her left a nasty gash through her midsection that would have killed a mortal as it flung her through the air. The resulting impact was nearly as painful, and it took all the willpower and every ounce of power she could muster to keep herself from disseminating into the formless matter that made up all Daedra. She might not be able to die permanently, but the reforming process would take longer than they could afford.

“Adelaide!” Martin shouted as he turned toward her, glancing away from their foe, and it felt like the world moved in slow motion as she saw another one of Dagon’s axes fall toward him. He didn’t see it, and even if he were to notice it at that moment, there wouldn’t be enough time for him to escape its path. Sheogorath wanted to laugh at the thought that she would have a front row seat to the world’s destruction. 

Adelaide wanted to sob. But, more than that, she wanted to push him out of the way, even if it would mean her own - albeit temporary - destruction. Thankfully, someone else did it for her. She watched in shock and awe as her two lieutenants appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and Asani grabbed and forcefully dragged Martin out of the path of the blade as Imal put up her shield to protect them. The Saint’s legs crumpled with the force of the blow and her shield cracked down the center, but her defensive posture never faltered. 

If they had been any less likely to die, Adelaide might have remarked that she had never seen a Mazken and an Aureal work together like that before, much less the heads of her armies, but Dagon roared again, angrier than ever, so commentary would have to wait. The intervention of her lieutenants had bought them enough time to get away from Dagon’s axes and breathe for a moment, but that moment was over and they had to get back into the fight, more seriously this time, or perish and lose the world along with themselves. 

Mehrunes Dagon was advancing on them again, and once more Sheogorath’s Staff appeared in her hands. Adelaide met its gaze for a moment before letting it disappear in favor of another one of her artifacts. The Staff would be of no use to her if it couldn’t stop more than one of his axes for a few moments, but perhaps the Wabbajack would prove somewhat effective. Assuming, of course, it did something in their favor and didn’t create a second Dagon or something. And, of course, assuming she could get a shot to hit him. 

The first blast from her staff dissipated against an axe that Martin stepped in front of her to block with a thin-looking glove. She didn’t know what the artifact was, but its enchantments held and the blow glanced off of it. Martin’s face turned white with the impact and she pretended not to notice the blood dripping from his bare hand - they didn’t have time for concern right now, and she had to trust that he knew what he was doing. (It still hurt her to see.) She sent another burst of magic at Dagon, but again she missed as he moved, and she cursed. 

Asani and Imal appeared at her shoulders, and by some miracle they still seemed to be on the same side. Imal had tossed aside her shattered shield and picked up another sword, encrusted with multi-hued blood, that must have fallen from a soldier. It was impossible to say what army they had belonged to. “Lady Sheogorath,” they said in unison. The effect was disconcerting, not least because of their very different cadences. 

“We will hold him back,” Imal said, short and clipped. “Do what you must.” 

“We will see you when you return to the Isles,” Asani added as Dagon wound up for another strike. “Be well, my Lord.” 

Before she could ask what they were planning or how they were going to hold back a god, they had already rushed forward, savage and graceful as only immortal beings could be. Imal used the flat of her golden sword to launch Asani at Dagon’s shoulder before using her swords to climb up his leg. He flailed and swung axes at both of them, cleaving Imal nearly in two but narrowly missing Asani and cutting open his own chest instead. 

“Do it now!” Martin called to her as he cradled the hand his own artifact had cut open while it healed. Adelaide nodded as she forcibly dragged herself out of the shock of watching the heads of her armies sacrifice themselves without hesitation and fired the Wabbajack once more. This time, the bolt landed true right as Mehrunes Dagon managed to fling Asani off of his shoulder. The Seducer landed on top of a nearby building in a cloud of dust. She didn’t get up again. 

Any further thoughts Adelaide might have spared her lieutenants were consumed in anxiety of what would become of Dagon. He disappeared in a massive red cloud, and when he emerged, he was largely unchanged. Still monstrous, still howling, still four-armed and axe wielding, but now nearer to the size of the average Orc rather than twice the size of the surrounding buildings. At that moment, Adelaide thought she could have wept with joy - this was a much more manageable task - but his anger seemed to only have increased, and he was barreling toward them.   
Martin absorbed the crash with his glove, but she heard his right arm break with a sickening crack. “We need to do something, and fast,” he said, face paling, “because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” 

Damn it all, she had to _think_, or they would never make it out of this alive, and Tamriel would be lost. Once more, without prompting, the Staff of Sheogorath appeared in her hands. Clivia’s eye that had seen what no one else had stared out at her, and Adelaide had the off-putting feeling that the eye was looking beyond her, and suddenly she understood. 

Sheogorath pointed the staff at Mehrunes Dagon once more as he looked to slice Martin in two, and this time the voice that came from it resonated with power. “Halt!” came the call, and this time Dagon listened. So did, it seemed, every other daedra and mortal on the street. Her foe was too powerful for the enchantment to last, but it bought her the time she needed to pull Martin out of his path and for her instincts to put another weapon in her palms. 

The Sword of Jyggalag was cold and awkward in her hands, and the sudden weight of it caused her to let the tip drop onto the hard cobblestone street. The clang and her blink of surprise seemed enough to break the spell that had fallen over everyone else, and her arms burned with strain as she lifted the incredibly heavy sword just in time to block an axe that would have otherwise taken her head off.   
Akatosh’s blood, Adelaide hated this. She was a novice with a greatsword, particularly one this heavy, and she needed to end this battle quickly if she wanted any hope of surviving. The longer the fight continued, the more her lack of experience would show, and the more opportunities Dagon would have to send her back to her own realm, beaten and broken. She needed an opportunity to go on the offensive and deliver some last-resort attack, but it was all she could do to keep the blade in front of her enough to keep her limbs attached. 

Adelaide took a deep breath as she blocked another axe and her elbows trembled with the force of the blow. She had to trust that Martin had some sort of trick up his sleeve and buy time for him to use whatever it was. And if not - well, no point in worrying about that. If not, they were probably both dead, but dwelling on that right now didn’t seem like the smartest move. 

The impact of her next block made her arms give out completely, and the blade of her greatsword - Jyggalag’s greatsword, and Sheogorath wasn’t sure how she’d gotten it but was giddy with triumph about having it - fell to the ground with a great clang. And just as she came to terms with the fact that she was about to be staring at her body from twenty paces away, Sanguine appeared between her and Dagon, the blood red stone on his necklace clutched in his hand. It radiated the same aura that her staff did, and she knew what it had to be - his symbol of office, Sanguine’s power personified. 

Adelaide had no desire to know what horrors he’d endured to obtain it. 

“Stop,” Sanguine commanded, but instead of being the order that had frozen the street when Clivia’s eye had gazed upon it earlier, his word was more of a suggestion, and a kind of dread pooled in her gut when she realized that she couldn’t lift her arms - nor did she have any desire to, even though moments ago she’d wanted nothing more than to keep fighting. No wonder Martin hadn’t wanted anything to do with Sanguine’s power after whatever he’d experienced. There was little so insidious as warping a person’s desires so they no longer knew what they wanted. 

Dagon snarled, seemingly doing a better job of fighting the enchantment than she was, but his four arms rested at his sides, axes resting on the ground. Sanguine looked at her, idly intense. “End him.”   
Sheogorath felt her arms scream with the strain of hefting Jyggalag’s blade once more, but she couldn’t deny the compulsion to obey. She didn’t know how long the spell would last, so she didn’t waste time with anything that would have destroyed Dagon’s physical form slowly, and instead went straight for his head. 

The roar that Mehrunes Dagon let out would have nearly shocked her into stopping if she had been able to stop herself. Instead, Sheogorath revelled in using one rival’s blade to end another. Adelaide knew how messy and difficult the process of decapitation could be, and this time was no exception, but she forced the sword forward until it met air again and she collapsed next to Dagon’s body as the spell she was under finally broke. 

Martin fell to his knees next to her and Adelaide curled into him, and for a moment they simply watched the world burn around them, content with the knowledge that they had done their part to save it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you liked it! this was a really hard chapter for me to write and though i'm happier with it i still don't love it but i really didn't want to make the wait any longer than it already was! the end is probably in sight for this fic, but inspired by some of the comments people have left i'm thinking about writing a spin-off with some of the other questlines, so stay tuned! 
> 
> also, as always, you can find me on the tunglrs @ongoingaccident, and i'd love it if you'd come say hi! you're also, of course, welcome to say hi on here too! i love talking to people :>


	4. Ends and New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Oblivion Crisis is ended, but there's still some work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as it turns out, i am in fact still alive, even if i can't maintain a proper upload schedule!  
Alternate chapter summary: the oblivion crisis is over, but not the crisis in my heart. no i don't THINK before i type  
This is probably more of an epilogue than anything else and i hope you enjoy! <3

Their moment of peace didn’t last long. How could it? The world was still burning, and even though Mehrunes Dagon’s defeat seemed to have shut all of the Oblivion Gates he had opened, his daedra were still scurrying about, and the fragmented remnants of the Mythic Dawn seemed determined to fight to the last. 

As much as she wanted to remain in the tiny bubble of serenity that she and Martin seemed to have created, Adelaide knew better than to believe that was possible. Proof came to her in the form of a charging daedroth a second later, but a particularly fortuitous bolt of lightning struck it down before it could reach them as they struggled to their feet together. (Was it somehow attuned to her will? She couldn’t be certain.) Another nice thing about the storm - it would help to put out some of the fires that still raged. 

Martin stood shakily and reached a hand out to her. Adelaide took it without hesitation. 

“We need to keep moving to the Temple of the One. This nightmare will never end, otherwise.” His voice was barely audible over the din of the storm and the fighting and the screams, gods, the screams. She rose unsteadily, even with his support. Every part of her burned with exhaustion and overexertion, but that was what it took to fight a Prince. 

Adelaide fought the desire to sink back to the ground and stay there until Haskill came to reprimand her for not doing her duty to the people of the Shivering Isles or she was killed by one of the remaining Mythic Dawn members. But to do so would be to null all of the sacrifices that had been made to bring them to this point, so she held Martin’s hand tighter and forced herself to move forward. 

They’d only managed to stumble forward a few feet when a clamor arose from behind them, and Adelaide spun to see Jauffre leading a small contingent of Blades toward them. They wore suspicion on their faces, some more openly than others, but that didn’t stop them from cutting down any of Dagon’s remaining daedra that ventured too close. “I would not have believed it possible if I hadn’t watched most of it myself,” the Grandmaster said quietly. “Thank you for protecting Tamriel. We will guard your way to the temple.” 

Adelaide didn’t have the strength to do anything more than nod, and Martin simply inclined his head once in gratitude before gesturing forward. “Shall we, then?” 

They continued to press onward as best they could, and she tried not to think too hard about what was to come. If they sealed shut the gates to Oblivion, there was little chance that any Daedric Prince, even one or two that were formerly human, would be allowed to remain on Tamriel. Not that leaving things as they were was an option, either, of course. But to have their reward for saving this land be banishment from their home seemed cruel. 

And to lose Martin, to have him sent back to the Misty Grove alone, to have sacrificed him to the vices he had so desperately tried to atone for - well, that simply seemed untenable. She wanted to trust that Akatosh would not be so cold, but Sheogorath knew better than to believe in gods. 

She was drawn abruptly from her thoughts when their awkwardly silent party arrived in front of the temple doors. Baurus and Caroline stepped forward to draw them open, but no one made a move to follow them as they walked inside. Martin looked back, questions in his gaze, but Jauffre simply bowed and placed his fist over his heart. “No matter what happens, it has been an honor to serve you, Your Majesty.” 

The doors slammed shut behind them with an air of finality, and the sudden silence was both overwhelming and oppressive. Adelaide couldn’t help her instinctive squeeze of Martin’s hand, or the slight smile that touched her face when he squeezed back. He made to let go of her as he approached the unlit brazier where the Dragonfires had once roared, but she clung to him. “I won’t let you finish this alone,” she said, and her voice echoed loudly in the cavernous room. She kept her next words quieter. “We started this together, and we should end it the same way.”

Martin blinked once in surprise, but his responding smile was genuine as he rearranged their hands to lace their fingers together. “You’re right, of course,” he murmured, and his next steps toward the apex of this sacred site were more confident. 

He removed the Amulet of Kings as carefully as he was able to with one hand, and held it out in front of him like an offering. “I don’t think this belongs to me anymore,” Martin whispered. For an instant, the amulet swayed as it dangled from his fingertips, but then he dropped it, and light burst from the brazier as it shattered. 

Adelaide tried to shield her eyes with her free hand, but the light was all-encompassing, and even when she closed her eyes she could see it - until, as quick as it had come, it was gone again. Instead, the avatar of Akatosh she had seen all those weeks ago (or last night, depending upon whose perception of time you were going by) was before them, as radiant as one might have expected a god to be. 

The dragon lowered its head until it was level with them, and the only thing that kept Adelaide from shrinking back in fear was the presence of Martin’s hand in hers. There was a long moment of silence as Akatosh appraised them, but then the dragon snorted with what might have been approval or amusement and returned to towering over them. “You did well,” he said in that commanding voice of his, and she wasn’t sure if it was her or Martin squeezing their entwined hands (maybe both). 

“I will make a new promise with you here, child of Alessia, on the bones of the last. Tamriel is safe, thanks to the work you have done, and the gates of Oblivion shall be shut forevermore. No daedra shall walk freely in this land again.” He didn’t need to say the words for Adelaide to understand what was coming next. “Including you.” It still felt like her chest was being crushed at those words. Sheogorath thought about how much she’d like to slay a dragon, but Adelaide kept herself grounded through her connection to Martin, who stepped closer protectively and pressed their arms together so they were touching from fingertip to shoulder. 

But what could they say? How could they defy Akatosh, of all gods, particularly when they were as hurt and exhausted as they were, even if she wanted to rage against the heavens at that declaration? How could she refuse the god Martin had dedicated his life to, even if that god was to doom them to an existence apart from one another? There were a few heavy seconds of silence, and then Akatosh puffed out a breath of air and spoke again. “I will give you a minute to say your goodbyes, but there can be no exceptions to this rule.” 

His presence left the room abruptly, and Adelaide struggled to keep standing as all the tension she’d been holding left her body in a rush. Martin folded her gently into his arms, and they remained like that until she could stand on her own again. Adelaide pulled back slowly, missing his warmth already, but couldn’t quite bear to let go of his hands. There was so much more that she’d wanted to say, so much more she’d wanted to do at his side, but it seemed cruel to tell him that now. So instead of telling him her feelings, she whispered his name instead. 

Martin smiled like his heart was breaking. “Adelaide,” he said, the word reverent on his lips, and she knew he was doing the same: telling her all the things he couldn’t say. “This isn't goodbye,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand as the room swelled with Akatosh’s light once more, “but until we meet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed the story (i really enjoyed writing it!) and there's plenty more bs to come, friends! feel free to complain to me about my writing below or join me in learning vet dungeons on eso under the same username! <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! :D  
if you want you're always welcome to talk to me on tunglr.hell under the same username! i'd love to hear from you!!!


End file.
